


I Put A Spell On You

by OfficialStarsandGutters



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Day 5: Jealousy, GW2017B, Gallavich Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 16:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11695494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialStarsandGutters/pseuds/OfficialStarsandGutters
Summary: For Gallavich Week Day Five: Jealousy-“I wouldn't go for spells if you're lookin' to attract someone.”“Why not?”“Love spells are messy. Anything that tampers with free will is. They can fuck up too easy, or the effects wear off, and they're hard to get right. Trust me. Not worth it.”





	I Put A Spell On You

**Author's Note:**

> This is a total rush job but I've been wanting to write a witch AU for a while so here we are.

“Do you want something, Mickey?” Mandy asks, after five minutes of Mickey hovering in her bedroom door, smoking and watching her do her make up, glancing away every time she meets his gaze in the mirror. He clears his throat, shifts his weight from side to side.

“Do you, uh.” Mickey clears his throat. He hates asking for help, so is struggling to form the words. “Shit. You get loads of guys, right? You must have a spell for attractin' them.”

Mandy arches a brow and her mouth turns down in a scowl. Mickey only sees that briefly before he scowls at a patch of her floor.

“Because that's the only way I could attract men, right? Thanks, asswipe.”

“I didn't mean it like-” Mickey sighs. “Whatever.”

He starts to leave.

“Jesus, don't go sulkin'.” Mandy finishes her mascara and lifts her straighteners. “I wouldn't go for spells if you're lookin' to attract someone.”

Mickey steps back into the room, looking at her questioningly.

“Why not?”

“Love spells are messy. Anything that tampers with free will is. They can fuck up too easy, or the effects wear off, and they're hard to get right. Trust me. Not worth it.”

“Right. Big help.”

“You could try gemstones.”

“You want me to wear jewellery?”

“No, numbnuts. You don't gotta wear it. Just stick it in your pocket or something.”

“Which stones?”

Mandy sighs as she drags the straighteners over her hair.

“You're a shit witch. You know you can just check the fuckin' book, right?”

“Quicker to ask you. Anyway, I can't read half the fuckin' writing in there. Our ancestors had drunken chicken scrawl.”

“Well, my favourite is ruby. Emotional and physical heat. Oh, and courage. That helps. Confidence is sexy.”

“Right.” Mickey skims his thumb along his lower lip.

“Here.” Mandy fishes out a bracelet, chain links connecting flat silver charms, all with ruby stones pressed into them. “Keep it in your pocket.”

“Thanks.”

“And you should ask Ian.”

“What?” Mickey almost drops the bracelet. “Why would I ask Gallagher?”

“'Cause he knows his shit. Lip's pretty much memorised their book of shadows, but Ian has like a natural affinity. You know he makes up his own spells and shit? And he can summon fire with just his fingers. He'd probably be able to give you better advice.”

“Right.” Mickey squeezes the bracelet in his hand, before shoving it into his pocket.

*

Ian's writing in a notebook when Mickey steps into the Kash N Grab. He looks up at the sound of the door, and his expression brightens when he sees Mickey. His eyes do a quick dip down over him, and he feels suddenly warmer. Mickey's wearing his usual sweatpants and vest, but something about him seems particularly attractive tonight.

“Hey,” Ian says, smiling lopsided. Mickey tongues at the corner of his mouth, giving him a brief nod. Ian's eyes are drawn to the movement of his tongue, and he has to drag them away.

“Hey,” he says, glancing away. He seems on edge, not the usual casual swagger to his step.

“You alright?”

“Fine,” he says, curt, sharp. Ian's brows furrow together. “Mandy says you know a lot of shit.”

“I do?” Ian laughs, setting his pen down. “That's the first I've heard.”

“About magic stuff.”

“Oh. I guess. Not, like, a lot. Probably not any more than most witches.”

“Right.” Mickey clears his throat. He stops by the counter, drumming his fingers on it, eyes on Ian's chest where there's an opaque stone hanging from a pendant. “What, uh, what's with the stones you wear?”

“Oh, well, this is a moonstone,” Ian says, stroking his fingertips over the pendant. “It's for balancing emotions. Helps with my bipolar.”

“Right.”

“And this.” Ian indicates an elastic bracelet covered in little chips of stones. “Is rose quartz. It promotes love, patience, and humility.”

“Love?” Mickey's eyebrows raise.

“Uh, yeah. Not just romantic love, though. It's for self love as well.”

“And the ring?”

Ian feels his cheeks heat. He touches the ring, twisting it back and forth a few times. He considers lying, but what if Mickey looks it up? He'll wonder why, he might read into it...

“Red fire quartz,” he admits quietly.

“What's it for?”

“Clarity, focus, and, uh, bringing forth desires.”

“Desires?”

“Like, encouraging things that we want but don't have.”

“Oh.” Mickey blinks. He looks at Ian in a strange way. Ian can't interpret what it means, but the intensity of those blue eyes sends more heat through him.

“So, uh. What did you want to know about?”

“Doesn't matter,” Mickey says, turning away.

“Hey, I don't mind. You can ask.”

Mickey's eyes flick to him briefly, looking wide and vulnerable. Ian feels a twinge in his chest. His palms flatten against the counter and he pushes out warm, positive, comforting vibes, sending them from deep in his chest. Mickey's shoulders visibly relax as the tension drains from them, his face softening, a light blush on his cheeks as the warmth of Ian's energy washes over him.

“Just wonderin' if you, uh, know any spells-” Mickey glances away. Then he laughs, a sharp edge to it, and looks back at Ian with his usual cockiness. “To make me rich?”

Ian knows that's not what he was going to ask. His intuition buzzes, and he knows it's a lie, but he does not know what the lie is to cover.

“I wish.” He snorts. “You could try aventurine for chance and luck, or chrysoprase for good fortune. Or peridot, but you only want a very small stone if you're going with peridot, or it can cause imbalance.”

“What, like I'll be too rich?”

“Yeah, well, they just encourage energy, y'know? The opportunities need to be there to start with.”

“Doin' the lottery an opportunity?”

Ian laughs and shakes his head.

“If it were that easy we'd all be rich already.”

“Right. Well. Thanks, man,” Mickey says.

“That all?”

“Yeah, that's all,” Mickey says. Ian knows he's still lying, but he says nothing as he watches him leave.

*

“Whatcha makin'?” Mickey asks, propping himself on the edge of the table.

“Mikhailo, we have chairs for reason.”

Mickey sighs and slides off the table.

“Better.” Alyona smiles at him, touching his cheek briefly. “I just grind herbs for tea.”

“What kind of tea?”

“Relaxation. Helps me sleep.”

“What's this?”

“Passionflower.” Alyona touches the other herbs. “This lavender, and chamomile.”

“Ma, how'd you learn all this?”

“It all in our book.”

“I can't read that damn thing,” Mickey says, sighing. “It's all cramped and messy.”

“You need know something?”

“I-” Mickey sucks in his lower lip. “Maybe.”

“What you need know?”

“Just. Something.”

“I your mother, Mikhailo. You can tell me.”

“It's embarrassing.”

“No judgement here, my love.”

“Just. Say. Theoretically speaking, I wanted someone to like me.”

“Aw! You have crush?” Alyona abandons her grinder to turn her attention on Mickey, scooping his face in her hands. “My boy growing up!”

“Ma!” Mickey scowls, batting her away. “I'm eighteen, I'm not a kid any more.”

“Eighteen and I never see you date. I keep waiting, think you bring nice boy home some day-”

“What?” Mickey looks at her with alarm.

“Oh, sorry, you want to tell me yourself?”

“You- How?”

“Even if I were not witch, my dear, I have mother's intuition. That power of it's own.”

Mickey feels his face heat. His heart beats a panicked pattern in his chest. Then he feels a familiar warmth sweep through him, his mother projecting calming energy towards him. She takes some of the ground lavender and sprinkles it into his hair.

“To relax you,” she explains, then takes his hand and squeezes it between two of her own. “You should have no shame. Love is the most powerful magic. It does not matter who that love is for.”

“Maaaa.”

“But you should not mess with love. Too dangerous. You wait for love to find you. If someone does not see how wonderful you are, they are not right.”

“Right.” Mickey sighs, embarrassed he asked in the first place. Alyona seems to take sympathy on him, stroking his hair.

“You share apple with your boy, and I get you gardenia. Good for inviting love.”

“Okay. Thanks ma, and, uh, thanks. For not makin' a big deal out of... Y'know.”

“Mikhailo.” She sighs, affectionate, and hugs him to her. She smells like a lovely mixture of herbs, warm and comforting, and he hugs her back firmly. “You are my son. I love you no matter what. My happiness just wishes for you to be happy.”

Mickey nods against her shoulder. The threat of tears keeps him back from speaking, his throat tight and hot, but in that moment they don't need words.

*

“Mickey came by the shop a while ago,” Ian says, holding Mandy's hand to help her balance as she walks along the edge of the sidewalk. “Wanted to ask me about magic, but then he didn't ask me what he wanted.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he asked me did I know ways for him to get rich, but I know it was just a cover. I could feel it wasn't what he came in for. Said you sent him.”

“Right, yeah. He was askin' me the other day about attracting guys. I thought you might know more than I did.”

“Wait, Mickey's gay?”

“Shit.” Mandy looks at Ian with alarm. “You can't tell anyone. He'll kick my ass if he thinks I'm going around telling people. He only just came out to our mom a few days ago.”

“I won't tell. Promise. I'm just... Surprised.” A thrill runs through Ian. “Do you know who he's trying to attract?”

Mandy shakes her head, then snorts.

“Probably just tryna get laid or something. I gave him some rubies. Thought you could give better advice.”

Rubies. That explains why Ian was even more hot and bothered by Mickey than usual. His attraction further emphasized by the stone.

“Right. Probably,” Ian says, trying to keep his tone casual, to hide any disappointment at the idea of Mickey with someone else.

*

Mickey's head rests on the old, thick, leather bound book that has been passed down their family for centuries. He has a throbbing headache in the base of his skull and his eyes ache from squinting at the cramped writing.

“Fuck this,” he says to no one in particular. “Why don't we have online sources?”

“Well, you can look up some shit online,” Iggy says. Mickey starts.

“The fuck did you get in?”

“I've been sitting here for like twenty minutes.”

Mickey squints angrily at him. He didn't hear him, but then, Iggy moves like a ghost sometimes.

“But some of it's bullshit,” Iggy says. “People who aren't really magic posting nonsense.”

Iggy drifts across from the living room and sinks boneless into the chair across from Mickey.

“Great. Real helpful.” Mickey sighs and pushes the book away, rubbing tiredly at his temple.

“Whatcha lookin' for?”

“Nothin',” Mickey says, too quick. It's embarrassing enough Mandy and his ma knowing. Iggy definitely does not need to know. “Just... Readin' up. Don't really use my powers enough. Tryna learn some more.”

“Why don't you try invoking your element?”

“Which element?”

“Oh, Mick, bro.” Iggy leans forward, slumping onto his forearms. “You gotta know which element is yours, man. Like, mine is air, and Mandy's is earth.”

“The fuck do you find that out?”

“Gotta experiment,” Iggy says, in a tone he probably thinks is wise, but really just sounds hazy and spaced out. Mickey sighs and lets his head fall back onto the book.

*

“Water, I invoke you,” Ian says, as the water flows from the taps into the tub. He breathes into his hands, then opens them over the bath. “Air, I invoke you.”

Ian lifts his box of gemstones and sits them around the bath; rubies, garnets, rose and red fire quartz, and his moonstone pendant he hangs from the shower head.

“Earth, I invoke you.” Finally Ian moves his hands over the candles around the tub, snapping his fingers over each one, he summons flame to light them. Pink for love, red for sex and passion, and orange for attraction. “Fire, I invoke you.”

With his circle set, he sprinkles several handfuls of torn mint leaves over the water, then tosses cut segments of orange in with them. Finally he adds a few drops of patchouli and sandalwood. Bath complete, Ian turns off the taps and sheds his boxers, easing himself into the hot water. He sighs in contentment as he sinks down into it. Holding his breath, Ian allows himself to slide beneath the water, letting it envelop him.

Mickey automatically comes to mind as Ian sinks dreamily into the water, but he tries to shift his thoughts away. He has no desire to try and influence anyone's free will. He simply wants to give himself a better chance, emphasize his own attraction in the hopes Mickey will see the appeal.

Ian bursts to the surface when his lungs start to ache, gasping in a breath. He rubs the mint leaves into his skin and squeezes orange juice through his hair. He soaks in the bath for a good half an hour before he breaks the circle by blowing out his candles. His skin is clear and smooth, his hair is soft and silky, and his eyes shine with a fresh light by the time he's dried up and dressed for work.

“Who are you trying to impress?” Lip asks, catching the mixture of scents on Ian. Ian just smirks and taps the side of his nose as he heads out the door.

*

Mickey leans against the street lamp, smoking and glowering at the Kash N Grab across the road. It's been ten minutes and he still hasn't made a move to go inside.

“Courage my ass,” he mutters, squeezing the ruby bracelet in his pocket. As if in response, he feels a sudden warmth in his chest, spreading through his limbs, easing out the nerves. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

Mickey flicks away his butt and moves towards the shop. Ian looks up when he steps in, smiling that dorky grin of his, and Mickey's newfound courage falters. He looks good. He looks real fuckin' good, better than usual, practically glowing under the dim fluorescent lights. Mickey's legs temporarily forget how to carry him forward.

“Hey, Mick,” Ian says. Mickey nods in response, forcing his feet to carry him in short, stiff steps.

“What's your element?” he asks. Ian smirks. Mickey's stomach flutters.

“Is that the witch equivalent of 'what's your sign'?” He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Mickey stares at him, expression hard. Ian's laughter fades. “Uh. Fire. Why?”

“How did you find that out?”

“I don't really know. It's just the one I always had more of an affinity for.” Ian snaps his fingers and a small flame appears over his thumb, like the flickering of a lighter. It lasts a few seconds before fading out. “Though I like working with water, too, so I guess it's like a secondary element.”

Ian's eyes never shift from him, and Mickey feels vulnerable, feels like he's under scrutiny.

“Right.” He lifts an apple, rolling it between his hands. He thinks of his ma's words, but how the fuck is he gonna get Ian to share an apple with him? Stupid. Sighing, he tosses the apple up, catches it, then sets it down again.

“What's yours?”

“What?”

“Your element.”

“Oh. I dunno.”

“You don't know?”

“Yeah, I didn't pay a lot of attention to this witch shit, okay. It always seemed like a girl thing, and it's so much hassle. I wanted the kind of power we have in stories. Not all these bullshit rituals with herbs and rocks and shit.”

“But you've changed your mind?”

“Might as well use whatever I've got,” Mickey says, shrugging, stiff shouldered.

“Hm, okay.” Ian comes out from behind the counter. He moves past the grocery aisles to the far corner of the shop, all herbs, gemstones, candles and oils. “Try calling on earth.”

Ian lifts a clunky looking stone and holds it out to Mickey. When Mickey doesn't reach for it, Ian steps closer.

“Here.” He guides it into Mickey's hands, then cups his own around them. Mickey feels the warmth from his fingers, feels tingling through his skin. He can't pick out exactly what Ian smells like, hints of orange and mint mixed through his scent, but it is intoxicating. Mickey bites his lower lip, automatically leaning closer. “Now call.”

“This is stupid,” Mickey grumbles, hoping Ian can't see the flush of his cheeks.

“The elements are not stupid, Mickey. They are precious, and they are powerful, and they are our connection to everything. Without them, we could do nothing. Now, repeat after me: earth, I invoke you.”

Mickey sighs, before repeating Ian's words. He feels a solidness through his form, a steadiness, a sudden surge of strength.

“Did you feel anything?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“So earth might be a possibility.” Ian nods, then gets a small white candle. “We'll try fire, next. Light it as you call on fire.”

Mickey fishes his lighter out and cups one hand around the candle with Ian's as he lights the wick.

“Fire, I invoke you.” A brief flash of warmth through him, but not as noticeable as the strength from the rock. “Don't think it's that one.”

“Okay.” Ian smiles. The flickering flame reflects in his eyes as he lifts the candle to blow it out. Mickey can almost feel a hum from his skin, like an electrical current flowing beneath the surface. It's clear Ian got a much stronger power buzz from the fire. “Air next. You can do that just by blowing into your hands, so it's a nice simple one.”

Mickey feels a light breeze over his skin when he invokes air, a freshness, for a second he breathes in cool, fresh air that is definitely not in the shop. Again, it fades quickly.

“Don't think it's that one, either.”

“Okay, so far it's looking like earth, but we'll try water, just to be sure.” Ian jogs across to the fridges to get a bottle of water, then fetches the mop bucket from the store room. “Don't really have anywhere else you can pour this, but this should do well enough.”

“Right,” Mickey says, still feeling foolish and embarrassed by all this. He takes the bottle from Ian and tips it towards the bucket. “Water, I invoke you.”

He feels cool rain on his skin. He feels like there's water running through him, not on the surface of his skin, but beneath it. He feels clean and refreshed and, briefly, like he's completely submerged. Mickey gasps in a breath as the feeling fades, chest constricting in a panic that he's drowning, alarmed because he can't swim. Then he's dry again, standing in the Kash N Grab and staring at Ian wide eyed. Ian grins back at him.

“Water it is,” he says, without having to ask. He looks so bright and vibrant. Mickey wants to kiss him, feels the fear and worry washed away by the cleansing rush of water. He takes half a step forward when Ian's eyes dip to his side. “Oh, you dropped your... flower.”

Ian crouches to lift the white flower that had fallen from Mickey's pocket, looking at it closely as he rises.

“Gardenia.” He blinks, his expression briefly blank, before he manages a tight smile, holding it out towards Mickey. “You tryna win someone's affections?”

“No.” Mickey scowls and shoves the flower back in his pocket, shoulders tense, defensive. “Ma just gave it to me.”

“Right.” Ian looks away, the warmth of his demeanour slowly draining as he closes off. Mickey wonders what he's done wrong. “Anything else I can help you with?”

“Uh.” Mickey is thrown by the sudden changes, stepping back, building up his own walls again. “No.”

“Well, let me know if you need anything else,” Ian says, and moves back behind the counter. Lost, Mickey lingers awkwardly for a few moments, before he flees the shop.

*

Ian stares into space, absently clicking his fingers, summoning flame, extinguishing it, on and off. He's starting to wonder if he's heading for another cycle. His intuition has always been so strong, always been so reliable, except during the worst of his illness. It was all out of whack in his manic phases, exaggerated or fuelled by paranoia, and when he's depressed, it doesn't seem to exist at all. He doesn't feel his mood shifting, but then, he rarely does.

Sighing, Ian lets his flame die out again.

Maybe he's just projecting. He feels something between him and Mickey, a spark, a heat, so strong to him it's almost tangible. Could he just be projecting his own wishes? Ian doubts it would feel so strong, so apparent, but then, much as he feels it, Mickey shows no signs of interest in him.

“Hey!”

Ian starts out of his daze, blinking several times as he looks towards Mandy.

“Oh, hey.” He shakes his head. She smiles at him, amused.

“Someone was zoned out.”

“Just thinkin'.”

“'Bout what?” Mandy links her arm easily through his as they start to walk.

“How, uh. How do you know if a guy likes you? Like, not just wants to bang, but actually likes you.”

“You can't feel it?”

“I'm getting mixed signals.”

“Huh. Well, does he get that look in his eyes when he's with you?”

“What look?”

“Trust me.” Mandy smirks. “You'll know it when you see it.”

*

“Ian! So nice to see you again.”

“Hi, Alyona. Thanks for the tea. It worked a treat. Liam's fever cleared right up.”

“Good, good. You bring him visit some time. Every time I see him he get so much bigger.”

“Yeah, he's growing like mad.”

Mickey lingers in the hallway. He doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but he'd been on his way to the kitchen when he'd heard Ian's name. He drums his fingers against his thigh, then squeezes the ruby bracelet in his pocket. Courage. It's his fuckin' house, he can go to the kitchen if he wants.

Ian's at the table when Mickey comes out, cradling a mug of steaming herbal tea. Alyona sits across from him.

“Oh, hi Mickey.”

“Mikhailo, you want tea?”

“No thanks, ma.” Mickey's eyes move from Alyona to Ian, and he gives a brief nod. “Hey.”

Ian smiles warmly, and Mickey almost walks into the edge of the counter, so distracted by it.

“Ian, you like boys, yes?”

“Uh.” Ian laughs, leaning back in his seat. “Yes, I do.”

“You have boyfriend?”

Mickey feels panic start to rise in his chest. He looks at his mom with wide eyes, but her gaze is on Ian.

“Not at the minute, no.” Ian casts a side glance at Mickey, and he turns away swiftly, pressing his hands into the counter.

“My Mikhailo has boy trouble. Maybe you help?”

“Ma!”

“Oh?” Ian runs his thumbs along the brim of his mug.

“I don't have fuckin' boy trouble,” Mickey says, breathing out in a sharp rush of anger.

“Language!” Alyona fixes him with a hard stare, and Mickey wilts slightly.

“I don't,” he mutters, sulky, shoving a cookie in his mouth. He feels utterly betrayed that his mom has brought this up in front of Ian, of all fuckin' people.

“Well, why don't you tell Ian about boy you like. Maybe he help.”

Ian looks up from under his lashes, expression unreadable, and Mickey breathes in one of his cookie crumbs. He bends over, coughing as he tries to clear his airway. Alyona clicks her tongue.

“Oh, Mikhailo.” She stands and draws her hands up either side of Mickey's throat. He feels a push of air, like his own breath is being urged up from his lungs. It dislodges the crumbs and he gasps in a breath, red faced. “What are you like?”

Before Mickey can respond, she has pushed him down into her abandoned seat and brought a glass of juice to sit in front of him.

“Are you okay?” Ian asks. Mickey nods stiffly and takes a long drink of his juice. Alyona's back is turned as she works at something over the counter, but when she returns, she sits a plate with an apple between them. It has been cut down the middle, the seeds removed. Mickey looks at her with wild eyes. She just smiles knowingly.

“Some fruit. Good for you,” she says. As she turns away, she catches Mickey's eye and winks.

He resists the urge to hit his head off the table.

“You know,” Ian says, lifting one half of the apple. “Apples are used in love spells a lot. Especially red ones like this. You can smear honey on the inside, stick a few strands of your hair and the person you want's hair, and bind the apple back together with ribbon. Or you can push a needle through the centre to hold the pieces together and tie it to the branch of a tree.”

“Yeah?” Mickey tries not to sound as miserable as he feels. He lifts the other half of the apple and focuses on peeling strips of the skin off with a knife so he doesn't have to look at Ian.

“Yeah.” Ian takes a bite of his half, then his voice gets an edge to it. “Of course, love spells are always questionable. Morally. Some people say all love spells are black magic.”

Mickey glances up, eyebrows raised.

“Why?”

“Messes with people's free will. Love is an energy of its own. A lot of witches believe it shouldn't be tampered with.”

“Right.”

“Of course, if the feeling is already there, there's nothing wrong with encouraging it.”

Mickey glances up to find Ian staring at him, eyes narrowed, brows furrowed.

“The fuck are you lookin' at?”

“Nothin',” Ian says quickly, and looks away.

“Okay, ready,” Mandy says, appearing in the doorway. Ian rises, taking his apple half with him.

“See ya later, Mickey.”

“Bye.” Mickey watches them go, sighing and biting out of his apple. Alyona reappears behind him, placing a hand on his head.

“Ian is the boy, yes?”

“I-” Mickey gets ready to argue, but her expression tells him it's useless. He deflates. “Yes, but you didn't have to embarrass me like that!”

“I no embarrass. I help. You see.” She presses a kiss to his hair. “Now finish apple and you help me clean.”

Mickey sighs, long suffering, but obediently shoves the rest of the apple in his mouth.

*

Ian sits at the kitchen table, rolling a red apple back and forth between his hands. After a minute of this, he holds it in place with one hand. Determined, he draws a knife down the middle, splitting it in half. His nimble fingers pick a needle from the table top and he sticks it in one half of the apple.

Then he hesitates.

His free hand lifts the other half of the apple, holding it near the needle. He chews his lip, moving them closer, almost touching. Then he drops both of them and sighs, pushing a hand through his hair.

“I can't do this.”

Ian plucks the needle out of the apple and tosses it into the trash. Desire is one thing, but to allow that desire to tempt him, to lead him into magic he knows is wrong, that can mess up so easily. He shakes his head and steps out the back for fresh air. It's raining. Ian puts a hand out beyond their porch, letting raindrops land in his open palm. He smiles automatically. The rain reminds him of Mickey.

“Water and air, give me clarity of mind,” he murmurs, drawing his wet fingertips in a line over his forehead. It helps settle the mess of feelings, even briefly, the ache of longing and the thorny scratch of envy.

*

Mickey thinks of Ian. This is not an uncommon occurrence. Ian often crosses his mind, but on this occasion, it is with blinding clarity, and the same feeling of being splashed with water on the inside. Mickey rubs his eyes, expecting his hand to come away wet, but his fingers stay dry.

“What the fuck?”

He's slightly shaken with the experience, but refreshed as well. More attuned with his power than he ever bothered to be in his eighteen years. The rubies in his pocket seem to burn against his thigh in response. Mickey feels a surge of courage.

“Fuck it.” He grabs his coat, tired of playing games, and steps out into the rain. Each drop of water that lands on his skin seems to charge him more, and he tips his head up against the rain, closes his eyes and welcomes his element and its influence on him. “Water, I invoke you, and I'm fuckin' trustin' you not to make me look like a dick.”

*

Mickey's outside the shop when Ian arrives at work, completely soaked. His dark hair is stuck to his forehead. Water clings to his eyelashes. Little drops roll down his cheeks. Despite this, he looks perfectly content.

“You can go inside, y'know,” Ian says. “It's open.”

“I was waitin' for you,” Mickey says.

“Oh.” Ian blinks, water dripping from his own lashes.

“I felt like you were callin' me. Like, in my head.”

“Now?”

“'Bout twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh. I, uh. I might have been thinking about you, but I didn't mean to- I wasn't trying to- I didn't even know I could do that.”

“You were thinking about me?”

“Yeah.” Ian's glad his cheeks are already flushed from the chill of the rain, his blush disguised. “Just, in passing.”

“Right.” Mickey clears his throat and shifts his weight foot to foot.

“So, any luck with that guy you liked?” Ian doesn't really want to know, knows he's just torturing himself, but he can't help but ask.

“I'm workin' on it,” Mickey says.

“Anyone I know?”

“Yeah.”

“Who?”

Mickey looks at him pointedly. Ian raises his eyebrows in question. Mickey sighs and rubs a hand over his face.

“You really dunno?”

Ian feels a little tingle of anticipation, his intuition buzzing, but just to be sure, he shakes his head.

“It's you, okay? It's fuckin' you. Like ma didn't make it fuckin' obvious enough. 'Have you got a boyfriend Ian? Oh, here, eat this apple, fruit is so good for-'”

Ian cuts Mickey off by stepping forward and cupping his jaw, bringing him in for a kiss. It's light, chaste, testing at first, but then Mickey presses back firmer against him, both of them gently buzzing with the power of the rain washing over them.

“I like you, too,” Ian says when he draws back, words soft against Mickey's wet lips. “Just in case that wasn't obvious.”

 

 


End file.
